


Ideas of Ice and Fire

by Captain_Hazard



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Hopefully nothing triggering, M/M, One Shot, ideas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Hazard/pseuds/Captain_Hazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots/ideas that I have but haven't the time or inspiration to carry them on past the point that I have them. If you want to write any of these, just ask. Pairings and tags will be added as time goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Princes Promise pt. 1

Grasping Arya's chin gently, Rodrik Stark made her look at him.

"Is this what you want Princess," He asked her, ignoring the mutterings from around the table.

"I don't have a choice," Arya murmured back, causing Rodrik to frown. "I gave my word."

"Something that was not your right to do for something like this," Rodrik returned, letting go of her chin and giving a flat stare to the perpetrator of this issue. "I am the head of my family and Warden of the North. Discussion's of marriage go through me first in regards to my citizens."

"Lord Rodrik-"

"Prince Rodrik, I promised that no kings in the North would exist unless absolutely necessary. I said nothing of a northern prince or princess." Rodrick's voice was cold as he addressed the older man. "All the same, Lord Baratheon, I decide if such union's will take place. I have yet to be swayed towards any decision just yet."

Rodrik calmly sipped his wine, waiting for the other man to reply. Gendry sat to his uncles right looking slightly dejected.

"I would hardly call  _you_  a prince."

He turned to the speaker, Arianne Martell, who gave him a disgruntled look and he gave her a shrug.

"No one here would. Most would call me heathen or savage or false. After all, I am only a cousin to his grace King Jon, much like you are a cousin to prince Aegon. Judging from your tone, you think me a pretender, and most of the people here agree with you, judging by their faces.I do have to wonder, with the similarity I've pointed out, what does that make you _Lady_ Martell?"

He gave her a once over before scoffing. He ignored her and turned back to Stannis Baratheon, who just sat in his chair, grinding his teeth.

"Since this couldn't wait until a more appropriate time, we will have this discussion now. I will not have it again, whether or a not an agreement is reached by the end of it."

Daenerys and Jon looked at him sharply, clearly unhappy with what he just said. Rodrik cut into his steak, lifting a piece of it to his mouth and chewed with his eyebrows raised at the older man.

"I fail to see what the problem is," Mace Tyrell grunted at him from two seats away. "Your sister is more than old enough to marry and the bastard can be legitimized."

"I never took you for a ventriloquist, Lord Stannis." Rodrik ignored the oaf down the table. "You must tell me how you managed to get a glorified Steward to speak in your place when you sit there and he sits there."

"Now see here," Mace Tyrell began angrily, standing from his chair.

“Sit your arse down you fat flower,” His uncle Brynden had rose from his chair to snap at the other man. The guards around them began to shift in place.

“Uncle there's no need to insult the Lord of Flowers,” Rodrik patted his uncle on the arm. “He spoke out of turn and has delayed this farce even further than it need be. Hardly grounds to use such language, especially against someone who is only here out of courtesy.”

“Courtesy?!” Mace Tyrell thundered. “I am the Warden of the South!”

“And you are only here out of courtesy,” Rodrik repeated himself, taking a small sip from his wine. “The only reason you are here is because your daughter is to marry prince Aegon. May the gods bless her with a long marriage this time around.” He raised his cup and took a sip again. He hoped Margaery and Aegon didn't take too much offense with what he said. Margaery was kind to his sister, and Aegon had proven himself to be trustworthy.

He chanced a glance at them and saw that neither seemed that put off by what he said.

“I can understand why you do not see the issue with this potential marriage, Lord Tyrell so let me explain it to you.” Rodrik stood from his chair so that everyone could hear him. “The last time a Baratheon asked for the help of my family it lead to my father being killed here in this city. The last time a Baratheon was to be wed to a Stark, the Stark in question fled the whore monger that would have been her husband which lead to the deaths of many. And now a Baratheon is asking for the marriage between a Stark and one of his kin. Frankly I rather not have my sister marry a Baratheon.”

“The girl gave her word,” Stannis snapped at him. “The Queen herself said that the girl would marry my nephew if she asked. Or does the word of a Stark mean nothing any more?”

“You ordered the death of your brother and betrayed your king all those years ago, do not speak to me about keeping an oath, Kinslayer.” Rodrik shot back. “And did you say that he could have the Baratheon name your grace?” He asked Daenerys.

“That was still being worked out,” She replied calmly. “And need I remind you Prince Rodrik that your father also betrayed his king?”

“Well the king did burn his father alive and had his brother strangled,” Rodrik said mock thoughtfully and the Queen's face became rather pinched. “I suppose those aren't legitimate reasons for doing what he did.”

“Enough,” King Jon snarled out. “Arya will marry Ser Gendry as was agreed and that is final.”

“Then both of them will not be permitted to cross above the Neck and she will be cast out of House Stark, your grace,” Rodrik gave Jon a flat stare as Arya gasped. “I will have no Baratheon's in my region. Should anything happen to me or my children or to my brothers and their children, Princess Sansa and her family will be the ones to hold the North. After them...” He trailed off with a shrug and grabbed a napkin from the table.

Turning to Gendry he said softly, “You have more than earned the right to marry my sister. You respect her, so much so that you will not turn her into a simple housewife, but you challenge her all the same. You are her perfect match. The problem is not you Gendry, it has never been you. Use Stormwater with pride as you always have.” He added in reference to the other half of the destroyed great sword Ice.

Rodrik used the napkin to wipe his mouth. He looked down at his sister solemnly before placing a kiss on her head.

“I am so sorry.” He whispered to her. “Forgive me my lords and ladies, but I have lost my appetite.” He threw the napkin away and began to leave, grateful that his uncle had done so as well.

“That wasn't wise nephew,” His uncle told him after they left the great hall.

“No it wasn't lord Blackfish,” Rodrik nodded his head. “But I cannot let that family gain any foot hold over the North, I just can't. The day Stannis Baratheon or any Baratheon takes over the North will be the day that it has gone to shit.”

“That, I can agree with.” Blackfish nodded. “What do we do now?”

“We leave at dawn.”


	2. Princes Promise pt. 2

“Is there no way to change his mind?”

“Dany,” Jon sighed. “He is set in his ways. As long as Ser Gendry holds the Baratheon name, both he and Arya will never be welcomed North. Frankly I don't blame him one bit for his logic. Stannis is only interested in furthering the Baratheon name. He can't do it here in the South so he wants to try doing it in the North.”

“There is more than enough land for him to do so,” Daenerys pointed out. “It was not an unreasonable request.”

“And why would the Northmen follow a Southron Lord or rather his nephew, when he renounced the Seven in favor of a fire God? One that requested they burn down the last known Weirwood trees and swear all allegiance to him or die?” Jon gave her a dry look as she stared blankly. “Stannis also burned statues in the likeness of the Seven. If he requested that a Sept be torn down in favor of a fire temple, there would be a revolt. My brother has given us a peaceful solution.”

“Your cousin has insulted Southron lords and traditions.” Daenerys said sharply and Jon's reply was swift and firm.

“Dany, not even you follow the Seven and neither do I. Rodrik is my cousin by blood, true, but we were raised together, we played together, fought together, and almost died together. We only call each other cousin in the eyes of the court but make no mistake, he is my brother.”

“Aegon is your brother.”

“Is he?” Jon challenged her. “As much as he has earned my respect, neither of us know for sure, not even his uncles but they are sure about me being half Stark. Its one of the reason's you married me after all, to keep the blood from becoming too pure. It is your hope that the madness in our blood has less of a chance of springing up. I cannot begrudge you for that, and I'm sure our children will be thankful as well.”

Naerys, Benjen, Laennon, and Laena showed no signs of any madness just yet, neither did Rhaego. Jon was sure that there wouldn't be but he watched them all the same. Daenerys placed a hand on her stomach with a worried frown, rubbing it gently. Jon sighed and placed his hand there as well.

“This one will not be mad either, my love.” Jon said softly, smiling at her. “Our Osric or Brandon will grow strong and healthy.”

“Who is to say that this isn't a Baela or Rhaella?” She shot back with a grin.

“Don't you think we've had enough Valyrian names?”

Daenerys smacked his shoulder playfully before sighing, “This doesn't help our current situation.”

“There's not much else we can do,” Jon shrugged tiredly. “Rodrik has made his will known, if anything happens to him, his son Theon will be Lord Paramount and Prince of the North, then his daughter Cassandra and his other son Harlon. Our other brothers and their children will follow then Sansa and her children will follow. The only way to get what they both want is to not give Gendry the name Baratheon.”

“But that's what Lord Stannis wants,” Dany huffed at her husband.

“Then how about we ask Ser Gendry what he thinks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I add a bit extra to the first part. Not sure if I will add more.


	3. Princes Promise pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly smutty towards the end but not really.

Stannis of the house Baratheon gritted his teeth. “Nephew,” He growled. “Perhaps you can explain to me why the King and Queen think that you do not want to be a Baratheon?”

“Because I will not be a Baratheon,” Gendry replied firmly. “I will take another name and have suggested to the King and Queen that they name my brother Edric, heir to Storms End. He will carry on the Baratheon name.”

No that wouldn't do, Stannis thought. The other bastard held a grudge against him for what happened earlier even though it was necessary.

“He actually knows the Stormlands and Storms End,” Gendry continued. “I know neither, all I know is how to make weapons.”

And how to lead people, to victory or otherwise, Stannis thought bitterly, “Nephew-”

“No uncle, I will not be Lord Baratheon, my brother will be. This way you get to have the family name live on, and the Storm Lords get someone that knows how to lead them.”

“And what would you have in return, a wife that doesn't know how to behave like a proper lady should? One that behaves like a little savage whore? Or perhaps a smithy that you could call your own?” Stannis scoffed slightly. “Where you could raise your own sprogs that inhale the black smoke form the forge as you slave away over metal work? What is any of that in comparison to the Lordship that has stood in place for over three centuries? To own a castle that has stood for over eight thousand years?”

“If I could have any of that, it would be more than I could ever hope for, but I don't need to be called a Lord to get them. Because if I had any of the things you mocked, I would have had more than I could have wanted.” His nephew stood almost nose to nose with him. “And that would have been enough.”

His nephew said the words but it was Robert who was really speaking to him, insulting him even. His nephew huffed and turned away from him after a moment and started to walk for the door.

“You walk out that door you will never be welcomed in my house ever again.”

His nephew paused and looked over his shoulder, “Something tells me that I can live with that.” He turned thoughtful. “There is one thing however.”

One minute Stannis was standing proudly on his feet the next he was on the ground spitting out a few teeth.

“Never insult my bride to be ever again, uncle. Or next time I will feed you your teeth, one tooth at a time.” His nephew glared down at him before opening the door. “Give Shireen your regards before we leave.” Gendry added in a snarl over his shoulder.

* * *

  
“This came from Kings Landing nephew,” Edmure Tully handed Rodrik a missive. He watched as his nephew opened it and read.

“That's interesting,” Rodrik's lips twitched. “It seems my sister and her husband will come North after all – As prince and princess no less.”

“So there will be no Baratheon marriage then?” Ser Brynden asked.

“There will be, for Gendry's half brother Edric. Gendry has decided to take Arya's name. It also seems that Shireen Baratheon will be coming with them to the North.” That last one wasn't a surprise to young lord.

“What reason could she be going North for?” Edmure Tully asked in bewilderment.

“Prince Trystane,” The Blackfish grunted. “She and that boy were particularly close after the war.”

“They bonded over the resentment they felt for certain members of their families,” Rodrik explained. “That bond did not go unnoticed by anyone and Trystane left for the North after they were discovered.”

“Why?” Edmure frowned. “If they were as close as you say-”

“He was being pressured by that snake he calls a sister,” Rodrik said bluntly. “She wanted him to marry Shireen in the hopes of gaining the Stormlands for Dorne. She didn't count on the fact that Robert Baratheon had many children who could inherit, even if they were base born.”

“What is your problem with her exactly? You never said.”

“Where should I begin – with the fact that she got a young girl killed or with the fact that she nearly put her family in danger because of it?” Rodrik drawled. “Princess Myrcella was base born but she was a good, sweet girl – she was nothing like her mother. She didn't need to die.”

“And her brother Tommen should have lived as well?” Edmure asked with skepticism. Rodrik knew that his uncle's feelings came from the thought of how influential Tommen could be to certain people. Namely those in the Westerlands.

“The boy couldn't even hurt a fly even if it bothered him and he quite liked cats. What was he going to do uncle, have an army of his furry companions attack the enemies of his house? The most he could have done was become a Maester and whisper in the ear of some lord for all the good it would have done him.”

“At least he died with a sword in his hand on the battlefield, that's more than most men get.” Brynden threw out.

“Indeed.” Neither men commented on the fact that Tommen and his men were slaughtered like live stock during an ambush. The sword in question was only placed in his hands after wards.

“Arianne's actions put her family in danger – including Sansa. Of course, Prince Doran did claim some of the blame since it was his actions that forced his daughter to do what she did. However, Arianne, to this day, has not admitted to any wrong doing and she seems to think that her stupid plan would have worked.” Rodrik scoffed before he smiled. “But enough about that, my friend Trystane may yet have a bride and a new Lady of Highpoint.”

“Is it true that she no longer has Greyscale?”

“Aye,” Rodrik said solemnly. “When that red bitch tried to burn her, the blood of the Dragon protected young Shireen and purified her body of the disease. Ser Davos of house Seaworth smuggled her away from her father to protect her.”

“Didn't you give him a Keep?”

“For his bravery and finding my brother, he was awarded Widow's Watch which used to belong to a branch of house Flint.” Rodrik nodded. “That particular family had died out unfortunately and the other Flint's were content to have what they already did.”

“So that's three new northern houses,” Edmure said thoughtfully, nodding at Ser Brynden to add him to the count. “Do you plan on giving out any more land as if they were candy, my Prince?”

Rodrik raised his eyebrows, “Why, do you want something Lord Tully?”

Edmure snorted, “I have enough on my plate as it is, I just want you to be careful nephew.”

“I have always been careful,” Rodrik quietly replied. “But I thank you for your concern.”

* * *

  
In the months that followed, Arya and Gendry had married in the halls of Winterfell becoming Princess and Prince consort of house Stark. Not too long after, Trystane and Shireen had married as well, becoming Prince and Princess of House Martell of Highpoint.

There had been some contention on having Trystane retain his title, mainly by lords outside of the North, but Rodrik had argued that though he followed the Seven, Trystane's blood was of the Rhoyne, and they ruled as Prince or Princess. His family had done so since the End of Nymeria's war for Dorne. Rodrik would see his friend retain his title, even if it meant that it held little power in the North.

Only a handful of people had come from Dorne, namely Sansa and her family. Rodrik had been happy to see Helena and Oberyn II, his niece and nephew. Arianne hadn't bothered to come but she did send her well wishes and gave an old Martell weapon as a gift along with a note.

Stannis Baratheon did come to his daughters wedding but did not over stay his welcome. Ser Torrhen Blackwell, one of Rodrik's many bastard cousins from his uncle Brandon and leader of the Black Cloaks, had gained the attention of Nymeria Sand. Rodrik was asked to help arrange a match for the two just as he had for certain members of the Free Folk and his other bastard cousins. They would be married after the new year.

All this thought of marriage had him look towards his wife with a smile. She had retained her skill with an axe and hadn't been softened by motherhood like some Ironborn had feared or hoped. Enough of them had lost enough fingers to remind them of her strength.

“What?” Asha demanded when she caught his stare. “What are you smiling at?”

Rodrik smirked and made his way over to her, “Can't a man enjoy the sight of his wife?” He threw out as he wrapped his arms around her.

“The sight of my tits you mean,” Asha said flatly though she wrapped her arms around Rodrik's waist and stared up at him.

“I can't see those beauties in all these leathers,” Rodrik palmed one of Asha's breasts and she moaned when he thumbed her nipple, head rolling back. “But no, that's not what I was smiling about.”

“Then what?”

“All these marriages taking place made me think of my own,” Rodrik kissed Asha's exposed neck. “And how I tamed a beautiful squid with my wicked Greenlander ways.” He teased, giving her another kiss.

Asha gripped the back of his hair and pulled, “This squid fucked a weak Greenlander first,” She snarled playfully, running a finger alongside the artery in his neck. “when he was nothing more than a green pup. I could have taken you for a salt husband, made you take my name, made you my good little slave.”

“But you didn't,” Rodrik ran his hands over Asha's arse and lifted off of the ground by the back of her thighs. Asha wrapped her legs around her husband in response. “And I took you like an Alpha takes its pack bitch.”

Before either could fulfill their sexual intent, there was aloud bang outside their door.

“Mummy! Daddy! Theon won't leave me alone!” Yara, their second born child, wailed from behind their door.

“She stole one of my figurines!” The sound of their first born howling had them sighing and separating from each other.

“No I didn't!”

“Will you deal with them, or shall I?” Rodrik sighed as their children argued still.

“You spoil them rotten, they won't take you seriously.”

“Says the woman who commissioned a longship to be built for Theon's second name day.”

“I told you it would be for when he was older,” Asha rolled her eyes and walked towards the door. “Stop staring at my arse,” She threw over her shoulder after a few steps before she reached the door and opened it roughly.

Its not my fault that it looks good when you walk away, Rodrik thought with a small laugh as his wife berated their children.


	4. Dancing Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't get to finish this idea but hopefully someone picks it up.

Aegon is not sure how it happened, but he is sure that it has everything to do with Arya. No, he was more than sure, Arya was at the center of this conflict and so was the rest of the Starks.

“My father was king of the Seven Kingdoms, not six.” His aunt reminded him, calling his attention back to the conversation at hand. Ah, now he remembered the point of his thoughts, Arya's crown and Northern independence. “A Northern kingdom that was separate from the rest was hardly what he wanted.”

“Your father was many things and did many things as well,” His brother, Jon, said sharply. “Or do the people he burned alive mean nothing to you at all?”

Daenerys flushed slightly as her protector growled at Jon.

“Mind your words, Stark.”

“Ser Jorah,” Jon's words were delivered silkily, and with a slight mocking lilt. “When I want to speak to a pardoned traitor, I will speak with Ser Jaime first. If I want to speak with a former slave, Grey Worm can hold a conversation well enough. When I want to speak with the walking shame of Bear Island and the North...well actually, I don't. Make like the Unsullied Ser Jorah, and do not speak unless spoken too.”

“Why is he here?” Aegon spoke up then, giving Jorah a glare. “If my cousin Nymeria is not allowed to sit in on this meeting along with Ser Brynden, why is he? Do you expect us to do something untoward you, aunt Daenerys?”

“Both of you have proven time and again that you mean me no harm,” Daenerys nodded at him. “But I have need of Ser Jorah's advice in regards to the North just in case things...become difficult.”

“You mean in the event of an invasion,” Jon stood then, his face cold and his words harsh as he spat at the disgraced knight. “I will have your head Mormont if it should come to that.”

“It won't come to that if your precious siblings are smart enough to kneel.” Mormont spat back.

Aegon slammed his fist onto the table as Jon unsheathed his sword.

“Get out,” Aegon said quietly, one hand clutched at his sword. “Get out now before I help my brother rip you apart.” When the older man looked at Daenerys, Aegon snapped, “Do not look to her for help! I am one of three rulers here. My word is law.”

“So is mine, and I want you gone,” Jon growled out. Aegon glanced at Daenerys and knew that they would get no help from her so he stood as well.

“We'll have this conversation again I'm sure,” He said, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder. His brother sheathed his sword and walked away from him towards the door. When Jon left he spoke again. “But we will have it without any hanger on's dearest aunt.” He sneered at Jorah and started to leave.

“Don't let your love for her blind you,” Aegon stopped as her words washed over him. “You are a dragon first and foremost-”

“I know what I am,” He turned around to glare at her. “It is why I let her go and married you instead alongside Jon-”

“Jaehaerys-”

“His name is Jon outside of formality,” Aegon spoke over her. “That has always been his name whenever we have spoken and whatever Prince Rhaegar wanted doesn't matter since he's dead. Eddard Stark raised my brother just as Jon Connington raised me. Those are the men we recognize as father. You have asked a lot of us aunt, and we have met your demands asking for very little in return. I am asking you, and I speak for Jon as well, let this go.”

“Or what nephew?”

“Or all the realms will bleed again.”

* * *

 

“So you want us to tell my cousin to kneel,” Ser Markus Redstone demanded.

“No,” Aegon shook his head. “We want nothing of the sort. We are just warning you of our aunts intentions.”

“Well she can get buggered for all I care,” Markus snapped back. Thankfully they were far away enough from any spies that his aunt might have or this meeting wouldn't have taken place.

“Enough boy,” His father, Ser Brynden, rumbled. “They are not our enemies, though I do wonder what both of you plan to do.” He questioned them both but he eyed Jon harshly, searching for any falsehood.

Jon did not give his former mentor any, “If my aunt persists with this idea, I will declare myself and my dragon for the North and the Riverlands. The North is my home, even if I no longer live there thanks to my exile.”

“Dorne and the Stormlands will follow me and my dragon explicitly. You have my sword and my word.” Aegon had never broken his promise to the two men in front of him so he was being honest. Of course, the only hiccup had been when Lord Edmure, his wife Roslin, and their child had been discovered by his aunt in Casterly Rock before he could retrieve them, but he was working to see them released.

Both of the knights in front of them nodded slowly, understanding that they were firmly on their side.

“So it is to be another Dance of the Dragons is it?” Ser Brynden asked them. “That didn't work out so well for your family the last time.”

“The Starks are my family, even if I knew that Rhaegar was my father as I was growing up. I will not see them hurt.”

“There doesn't need to be another war,” Aegon added. “We barely survived the last one with the Walkers. Another one would likely spell the end of Westeros.”

“You sure that's the only reason?”

Aegon kept his face blank as he answered, “I am already married and Arya is free to choose whomever she wishes. Nothing good can come of union between us.”

“You're a fucking idiot if you think that,” Markus snorted.

“That's what I said,” Jon added with a slight smirk. He schooled his face as he addressed the Blackfish. “I know you haven't always been fond of me Ser Brynden, and I know that technically they are my cousins, but I love all the remaining Starks like they were my true borne siblings. And that will never change.”

“It is nice to know that your priorities haven't changed because of some flying lizards,” Ser Brynden said gruffly after a moment.

“And they never will.” Jon growled out. “There is also the matter of Lord Edmure and his family.”

“Aye, your aunt means to make me kneel to you all or the older Tully's die,” The Blackfish scowled. “The babe will be a hostage and will probably be raised by the Queen herself to be her little puppet. I worked that out for myself when she would only let me see them under heavy guard.”

“And neither option is appealing,” Markus added. “What is to be done with them?”

“I have a plan to get them out,” Aegon told him. “It is almost complete and when it is, we must make haste to the Riverlands.”

“Let's hear it then,” Ser Brynden prompted him to speak and he did.

* * *

 

“Can I just say how shit this plan is,” Markus grumbled as they snuck around. Jon rolled his eyes from behind the Tully's, looking for danger after he was done.

“Do you have a better idea?” Aegon demanded quietly, ushering the Tully's towards him. “This is the best I could come up with.”

Markus grumbled again but made his way to one of the horses that awaited them. Nymeria Sand and Ser Brynden were waiting for them as well. As they mounted, Ser Edmure turned to the two royals.

“Thank you,” He said hoarsely.

“Thank us when you are in your stronghold my lord,” Aegon murmured with a smile. “Now go.”

No sooner than the words left his mouth, several shouts had rent the air.

“Stop them!” That was Ser Jorah, who was charging at them. Jon growled and went to engage him.

“Go!” Aegon yelled, blocking a spear from one of the Unsullied. 'Aerion! Protect them! Protect the Tully's and those that ride with them!' He called out in his mind as Jon had taught him. He heard the screech of his dragon and the flapping of its large wings. It flew overhead and circled the castle. The Tully's rode for their lives with Nymeria and Ser Markus but Ser Brynden stayed behind.

“I'll not let you lads die here tonight,” He growled out an explanation as Aerion flew above those that escaped.

“I wasn't planning on dying today,” Aegon grunted as he deflected a strike meant for his head. He cut the Unsullied soldier in the back of the leg. A golden spike came through the front from the back of the Unsullied soldier and a voice followed.

“No one ever does your grace,” Ser Jaime grunted as he pushed the body of off his spike.

“Nice to see you being of use you blonde haired shit.”

“Well make yourself useful you old trout and take care of that one behind you.” Ser Jaime shot back and Ser Brynden caught and parried a blow that would have ended his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok just to clarify, Markus is Ser Brynden's bastard son who was knighted by a member of house Redfort, hence the name. He decided to pay tribute to his bastard status and to them.


	5. Setting the Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be very interested in seeing how far someone could take this.

Lord Eddard Stark repressed a sigh as he stared at his foster father. Jon was flanked by two Valemen just as he was flanked by two Northmen. Here it was the Greatjon and Roose Bolton.

“Lord Arryn,” He greeted the older man from atop his horse. For all his faults, including the indulgence of Robert's actions, Ned still loved Jon. That love wouldn't be enough to sway him from his decisions, however.

“Lord Stark,” Jon Arryn gave his foster son a grimace as he stared about their neutral meeting place outside of Riverrun. “I had hoped that when we met once more, it would be under better terms, Ned.”

“You and I both know that Robert's rage made that an impossibility, Jon,” Ned said grimly. “And now it is only going to get worse.”

“It need not be Ned,” Jon insisted. “Robert is willing to let the boy live – if he takes the Black or goes across the Narrow Sea.”

“The latter of which will put him closer to any assassin that Robert could hire. The former would see my nephew amongst the dredges of all seven kingdoms – many of which would take coin and a pardon to kill him.” Ned gave Jon a hard stare. “Do I look like I was born yesterday, Lord Arryn?”

“Ned, don't do anything foolish,” Jon said warningly.

“I am not the one who allowed the Lannister's to grow as strong as they have in capitol, Jon.” Ned shot back coldly. “Nor am I the one who allowed them to get away with murder. That was you and Robert.”

“What were we supposed to do Ned,” Jon looked at him tiredly. “The deed was done, we couldn't bring back the dead.” Not that Robert would have wanted too, He thought to himself.

“But you could have honored them, Jon. You could have done the right thing.” Ned shook his head. “I will not give up my nephew Jon. Not for you, not for Robert, not for anyone.”

“Not even for peace?”

“I don't want there to be a war but I am not the one pressing the issue.”

“How can Robert not press the issue?” Jon demanded. “He is king, a fact that you help make-”

“Wrong!” Ned growled, cutting the other man off. “I did not go to war to make Robert a king! I went to war to avenge my father and brother! I did it to save my sister – someone who didn't actually need saving. A fact I'm sure that you are more than aware of.”

“I have no idea-”

“I know about the letters Jon, the ones that my sister gave to Petyr Baelish and our good father. The ones they gave to you before my sister left with Rhaegar.”

Jon Arryn was a proud man, an honorable man. Or so it was claimed. Ned could see that Jon knew what he was talking about even as he lied through his teeth.

“I know not of what you speak, Eddard.”

“I knew you would say that,” Ned shook his head and made a gesture to the Greatjon who tossed a bleeding sack towards those of the Vale. “Petyr Baelish and his men – the ones worth bringing at least.”

Jon eyed the sack, “I have no idea -”

“My lord of the Dreadfort tells me that a naked man has few secrets, a flayed man none.” Ned gave Jon a cold stare. “Baelish sang like that bird he sowed to his coat. I know you sent him here.”

“You allowed a man to be flayed?” One of the Valemen said with disgust.

“Sometimes a dark path can lead to the light of peace,” Ned responded, eyes still on Jon. The older man paled at hearing the words he said to his foster son so long ago.

“Ned-”

“I am just following your example my lord, as any good son should.” Eddard paused and heaved a sigh. “My nephew is willing to let Robert keep his throne – as long as Robert never steps outside of the Crownlands, the Vale, or the Stormlands.”

“Are you mad?” Jon asked incredulously.

“No, I am not. Its quite simple Jon if you think about it. Dorne despises Robert and is willing to follow my nephew because of that. Tyrion Lannister is now Warden of the West thanks to the death of his father. Dwarf he may be, he's a smart one and there is no love loss between him and the Queen. The Tyrell's have always been Targaryen Loyalists and Olenna Tyrell is the one who controls that house, not her son or grandson. She knows who to back in this case.” Of course Margaery Tyrell was to marry his nephew in exchange but Jaehaerys was willing to marry the girl.

“Theon Greyjoy is the Lord of the Iron Islands and a good friend of my nephew. Hoster won't pick a side in this case, both his daughters are in danger here. The Riverlands will be neutral at best or will tear itself apart in trying to decide who to fight for. And of course, the might of the North will be behind my nephew.”

“But why? He is the grandson of the Mad King!”

“But he is also half Stark,” Greatjon barked out. “Lya was one of my friends and I'll be damned if her son will be denied his crown!”

“I have fought by Lord Eddard's side and we are kin twice over,” Roose Bolton added, referencing the fact that Sansa Stark had married his son Domeric and his daughter Rowan's marriage to Robb Stark. “If he tells me to follow his nephew, I will. It helps that his grace has not a drop of madness in him. The Northern blood clearly won out.”

“Think on what I said Jon,” Eddard said after a moment of silence. “There could be a peace of sorts. Robert just needs to show the restraint that he never has.” He guided his horse towards his next destination and flicked his reins. His men followed him and Ned reflected on what had happened.

It wouldn't be as simple as he made it seem. All the allies that joined them demanded something in return, most of them rewarded already. Dorne wanted nothing to do with them after they defeated Robert, if they needed too. His old friend may just surprise him, he did all those years ago when he allowed the murders of the Targaryen's to go unpunished.


	6. Go on then

“My uncle won't surrender the castle. Not to you, or me and especially not the Frey's. Not even with the games you play. You must know this Ser.”

Edmure was tired. Extremely tired, but not broken, irregardless of how he looked.

“The Blackfish is an old man,” Ser Jaime said quietly. His sellsword friend stood behind him but Edmure paid him no mind. “A good death is all he can hope for. But you – you have a child I heard. A son, conceived on your wedding night. I must say you're -”

“Aye I have a son,” Edmure interrupted the Kingslayer. “A son I haven't met, with a name I don't know but considering the other half of his family lack originality, his name is probably Walder. What a shit name.” He spat.

Ser Jaime seemed a little surprised by his his interruption but not his bitterness. He paused to collect his thoughts. Edmure continued to speak.

“I have a son, born of a wife I haven't seen since my wedding night.”

“You should be with them both.” Jaime murmured.

“No I shouldn't, I'll kill them both if I see them.” That was only half a lie, he would kill Roslyn but he wouldn't kill his son. Edmure was considered an idiot, he knew, but he wasn't a kinslayer.

“What?” Ser Jaime asked in shock. The sellsword eyed him critically, as if to see if he was lying. “Why would say such a thing?”

Edmure looked off to the side, “She cried you know. Roslyn cried when we consummated our marriage. I thought I had hurt her. I didn't mean to and I apologized to her. She cried even more and I was afraid that I had really hurt her badly. I am many things but a brute is not one of them.”

Edmure's face darkened quite a bit as he continued.

“Through her whimpering and her blubbering she told me about what her family had planned. What most of them had planned. Several of her brothers or cousins or whomever came in to our chambers and put me in irons. I could hear the screams then, I couldn't before. That little Frey bitch knew what they were going to do and instead of telling me she went through with it.”

“And your son,” That was the sellsword.

Edmure looked up and stared at Jaime Lannister with nothing but hatred, “Better he die now than live as a puppet for you and your whore sister.”

Jaime's face became like stone and he took a step forward, “You won't have to worry about poor little Axel Tully, I'll send him right into Riverrun by way of a catapult.”

“Then you'll be a different man than your father,” Was that truly his sons name? Was he really named after his own ancestor? “He was smart enough to send his dogs to kill innocents -”

“Don't talk about my family - “

“Why not?” Edmure was calm in the face of an angry Kingslayer. “You won the war didn't you? What do you care about what I say? What do you care if I call your father a monster or your sister a whore? Or if I call your brother a hero for killing the monster?”

“Shut your mouth,” The Kingslayer was in his face now. “Or I'll shut it for you.”

“Go on then,” Edmure snapped back. “You can't, can you? You talk of killing my son and you threaten me but you can't do it. No wonder your father was rumored to be disappointed in you – you're too weak.”

“I'm warning you -”

“Did you cry at your sons wedding?” Edmure knew the question through the Kingslayer off guard. “The Frey's wouldn't shut up about how both you and your sister cried like babes when your little bastard choked to death. I can't help but wonder if that is true.”

“That's enough, Jaime come on,” The sellsword made to grab the one handed knight but Edmure carried on.

“Did you cry when your daughter died, as well?” Edmure sneered. “The Frey's didn't talk much about her but whomever did her in deserves a reward. One less Lannister whore in the world and all that.”

Edmure grunted when a hand wrapped around his throat.

“You don't get to talk about them,” Jamie Lannister snarled in his face. “You don't get to talk about my family. I was going to be lenient with you, to honor an agreement with your sister but I won't now. I'll burn that fucking castle to the ground, and I'll make you watch.”

Edmure grunted still but his lips quirked into a small smile. Jaime let him go before stomping out of the tent. Edmure coughed and panted as he caught his breath.

“That was a dumb thing you did, pissing him off.”

Edmure looked up at the sellsword, “Do I look like I care?”

“No, you don't,” The sellsword added quietly after a moment.

“I don't,” Edmure agreed. “And I think your friend realizes this, its why he hasn't given any orders yet.” Edmure nodded to the lack of shouted commands to lay siege to the castle.

“He's realized his valued hostage is no use to him and he knows that the siege will take too long for him to get back to his precious sister.”

With that thought, Edmure began to laugh lowly before his laughter built up to a near mad cackle. It was nice to have this moment in the darkness he experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I understand that Edmure surrenders in both the books and the show, but dammit, I am tired of fuck heads getting away with this bullshit. Thankfully fanfiction exists and I can vent away when I need too.


	7. Skin of the Wolf, Blood of the Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this takes place in a world where the pact of Ice and Fire was fulfilled so the Starks have dragon blood on top of other shit. This was inspired by Lion in a Wolf's Den by maesteroftales on FF.Net. Go read it, its not complete but you might get a kick out of it.

Ser Gerold would never admit it out loud but he was nervous. Nervous for his king, nervous for his people and nervous for all the Seven Kingdoms. Partially because of Rhaegar, the vile Kinslayer and pretender to the Iron Throne. The other reason was making his way towards him with his own men and Direwolf.

Ser Lenn Snow, the younger bastard brother to Rickard Stark and uncle to the Warden of the North. While others would be insulted to have a bastard be sent to discuss terms, Gerold's problem lay in the fact that this man was one of the best warriors in the Seven Kingdoms. He could have easily been made a member of the Kingsguard but he had refused, saying that he was of better use in his homeland than in a city filled with people that didn't understand Northern customs.

Gerold stood tall when he was in speaking distance, cold purple eyes stared back at him. He needed to make a good impression. This man could potentially win them three more kingdoms and the war itself.

“Ser Gerold,” The Northman scowled at him.

“Ser Lenn, it is an honor -”

“Spare me,” Lenn snapped back and his Direwolf growled. “Where is this boy that I am to meet with?”

“King Viserys awaits for you in the castle.” Gerold pursed his lips at the blatant disrespect of his liege.

“Then take me too him, I do not have all day.” Lenn grumbled. “My men will wait outside of the castle walls with my weapons and Direwolf, so to appease your precious sensibilities.” The men who came with him made their displeasure known with grimaces and scowls but did not protest. Neither did the Direwolf.

Gerold thought it was odd for him to offer such a thing but he wouldn't complain if it meant that terms could be reached today.

“Of course.”

* * *

 

“This is him, the bastard?” Viserys said impatiently and glared at the Northman.

“Aye, that would be me boy.” Lenn said indifferently

“I am your king! You will kneel and address me as such.”

“Until your spoiled arse sits upon that ugly chair, you are no king of mine, boy.” Lenn growled back and smacked a guard that tried to make him kneel. The guard covered his bleeding nose as hands reached for swords.

“Be still,” Gerold commanded to the guards and the brothers who joined him. “Ser Lenn you don't have to bow, but you will show respect to his grace.”

“Respect is earned and I have yet to see anything to convince me that this child is worth following.” Lenn retorted, glancing at everyone in the room, including the small council. Some bristled, none more so than the young royal.

“His grace has the blood of the dragon, and his father was murdered by his traitorous brother,” Mace Tyrell, Hand to the King, blustered. “What more could you want?”

Luthor Tyrell's expression became sour at his sons words. Olenna Tyrell, his mother, palmed her face and muttered something under her breath. Her son clearly heard her as his face turned red.

“In case you forgot, Ser Mace,” The room seemed to grow cold as Lenn spoke. “I have the blood of the dragon as well thanks to the pact that was made if my eyes were not indicative enough for you. All of my family has it as well.

“Furthermore, my brother, Rickard, was burned to death on the orders of our cousin, Aerys. My nephew, Brandon, was hung from the highest tree in the Godswood of Riverrun, at the orders of my cousin, Aerys. My niece by law, the Lady Catelyn of house Tully, was raped and brutalized by my cousin Aerys as her father and siblings were put to the sword.

“If having the blood of the dragon and wanting vengeance for the act of kinslaying was a reason to rule, don't my family have a claim as well? Why should we bow to this child or his brother? Why should we not wait as you all kill each other then take the throne for ourselves?

“Why should my nephew give in to the demands of cravens who stand by as innocent people are killed or hurt by a madman?”

“My father was not mad!” Viserys snarled, a mad gleam in his eyes as he got up out of his chair and stomped his way to the Northman. Gerold felt a slight bit of guilt at Lenn's words. His king had given an order, and he obeyed. His king had done as he pleased, and Ser Gerold stood guard. His job was not to question, something that Lenn clearly didn't understand. He could hear faint noises coming outside but he assumed that the men were just training hard and dismissed it.

“My father was a dragon!” Viserys continued, stepping closer and several things happened at once. A few guards made to intercept him. One of Lenn's hands came up and slapped the boy across the cheek, the other wrapped around the boys throat and pulled him flush against the knight.

“One more step and I break his neck,” Lenn smirked viciously as he dragged the boy away from them and near one of the corners. “I am not afraid to die but you need him for your campaign. Keep struggling and I will hurt you, boy.” Everyone in the room stilled at this except Viserys who still struggled.

“Ser Lenn, think about what you are doing,” Ser Oswell held up to hands in peace as he tried to reason with the man.

“I know exactly what I'm doing, Ser Whent,” Lenn shrugged at the other man, easily holding the struggling boy. “ I am saving the lives of my people and my family.”

“You damn them,” Ser Jonothor Darry shook his head sadly.

“You hear that boy, these cowards tell me that I have damned my family,” He spoke to Viserys with a condescending tone. “And what was that comment earlier, your father was a dragon? Pfft, if he were, he wouldn't have been burned alive.” He stuck his free hand into a fire stand, to the horror of the others, then pulled it out unburnt.

“Real dragons don't burn,” He gripped one of the boys hands and stuck it into the fire. Viserys howled in agony before a burned hand was removed form the fire to gasps and snarls of those who pledged their support to him. “I guess you're as weak as your father then.”

“You will die this day,” Gerold said coldly. “For your act of defiance and your maiming of your rightful king-”

“Did my brother beg for his life or for the life of his son and good daughter?” Lenn interrupted him over the whimpers of the young king. “Did he cry or scream and demand justice in the eyes of gods and men?”

Ser Gerold said nothing.

“And did you revel in their deaths Ser Gerold? Did you smile as my new niece was raped and begged you for help?! You dare to stand there and judge me?! You are the one who will be judged! By the true king of Westeros and by the gods themselves. You Hightowers never learn do you? The last time your cunt of a family interfered with the line of succession, those traitors were put to sword. Maybe this time you will be wiped out as you should have been.”

He suddenly smiled, “I'm not surprised that none of you have noticed that it is really quiet outside.”

What an odd thing to say, Gerold thought with a frown and one of the guards moved to the window and stared.

“Seven Hells,” The guard muttered.

“What is it?” Gerold demanded. “Speak damn you.” He snapped when the guard stuttered.

“They're all dead.”

Gerold moved to the window to see all the men that were in their army dead on the ground. How in the Seven Hells?....

“The problem with having such a high castle, is that you can't hear the screams and pleas of those below you,” Lenn murmured softly. Foot steps thundered in their direction before the door burst open. Warriors clad in Northern style of combat came in along with a few Reachmen, mainly from house Tarly.

“Traitors!” Mace Tyrell bellowed from where was standing and made to move. An arrow to his knee stopped him from moving and he screamed as he crashed to the floor.

“The next person who moves will get a sword to the belly,” Ser Lenn said with indifference, giving a side eye to the archer who shot the future Warden of the South. “Nice shot Lord Tarly.”

“My thanks Ser Lenn,” Randyll Tarly said curtly. “Your plan worked perfectly.”

“I can see that,” Ser Lenn smiled and turned to address them all. “None of you noticed that there was an increase in your smallfolk population?

"I guess you wouldn't, what with your celebrations and small tourneys being performed in Honor of the brat in my arms. I've been sending Northmen and Rivermen to pledge themselves to your army, slowly but surely, as to not draw suspicion. I've been waiting for them to get into position and while my men were outside of the walls, yours were being slaughtered or poisoned inside of them.”

A genius plan, Gerold thought with grudging respect. He hadn't noticed anything strange, having been guarding the king from potential assassins.

“Lord Tarly, as the new Warden and Lord Paramount of the Reach, I leave you to dispense justice to these traitors in the name of his grace King Rhaegar,” Ser Lenn intoned with Tarly nodding sharply. “I have to return this one to the care of the king.” He tossed Viserys to one of the Northmen and that's when Gerold made his move.

He ran as fast as he could and drew his sword. He aimed it directly at the other knight. He knew this was feeble but the Kingsguard does not flee and they do not go quietly. He would die and take as many people with him as he could.

Someone tossed a sheathed sword to Ser Lenn and he batted Gerold's sword out of the way. He hadn't drawn it yet, he just blocked instead. At one point, he launched the sheath at Gerold who smacked it aside and their swords clashed. One was normal castle forged steel, the other was pale like milk glass. Sky-metal. This is not Dawn however, this is something else, Gerold thought.

Unfortunately that was his last coherent thought as Lenn had grabbed one of Gerold's daggers and slammed it through his chin. Gerold Hightower fell dead, his eyes wide with shock.

“Anybody else wish to do something foolish,” Lenn turned to the others. The guards dropped their swords but the other two Kingsguard knights charged. Lenn just smiled and readied himself for combat.

* * *

 

Rhaegar gave Lenn a rather fierce look as he spoke, “I told you to bring my brother back unharmed.”

“And I promised that I would try your grace,” Lenn said humbly. “I did warn your brother as to what would happen if continued to fight me.”

“He is a boy,” Rhaegar snapped.

“Who despises you and loved your father,” Lenn shot back. “I am not sure if you are aware your grace, but he had taken to burning people for his own amusement at times. Nobody there did anything to dissuade him.”

“I am aware,” Rhaegar said sadly. He also knew that Viserys had wished him and his family death but he dismissed it as the rantings of a child.

“I did not maim him your grace, he can still use his hand. The Maester that came with us swore that he would be fine. However, I offer one or both may hands as payment.” Lenn raised his hands out towards Rhaegar who sighed.

“As much as I would love to punish you, I have been convinced other wise. Instead, for your valor and loyalty to the crown, I will reward you.”

Lenn blinked as he was given the Lordship of Moat Cailin, and men to help fix it and a dowry for his marriage.

“Marriage your grace?”

“Of course, it won't do for a new lord to not have a wife. Lord Tywin has offered one of his cousins from Lannisport Lady Jeyne, as a bride as well as gold.” Rhaegar gave him another harsh look, one that promised pain if refused. Lenn glanced at the smirking Lion of the West and fought back the urge to sneer. It was bad enough that his nasty shit of a daughter was to marry his nephew but now he was getting more land and influence over the North?

“Ser Benjen is to take over Sea Dragon Point, and marry Lady Mara Qorgyle . Both Marriages will take place here in Summerhall since a new Capitol is being built. When you have children, the name they will bear is Lenn. The name his children will bear is Benjen. One house Stark is enough after all.”

Lenn swallowed down his indignation, “I thank you, your grace.”

“You are dismissed.”

Not for the first time, Lenn thought that they should have just declared independence. It would have been much more preferable.

* * *

For those wondering what his Sky-metal sword is called, its name is Glacier and the only opulent piece on it is a round disc pommel that has a snowflake etched on either side otherwise its mostly a normal looking Northern sword. This is what I envision as the sigil of house Lenn:

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this seems shitty, well I wrote it in about an hour off and on.


	8. This I swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There a sex scene in this one. It might be a bit cliche and weird. Please don't hold it against me.

Benjen felt numb as he read the letter in his hands.

_To lord Benjen Stark,_

_It is with great sorrow that I must inform you that your brother, Eddard, has perished at the Trident._

Benjen already knew this and he knew why. The Frey's had betrayed them and boxed them in from behind during the battle. It was a slaughter and not only was his brother dead but their ancestral weapon was being held by some southerner. And they may never get it back.

_It is my hope that with the war now over, the realms can now heal as one. As such -_

The letter was ripped away from his hands and torn to shreds by his brother Beron.

“Good Ser,” Maester Walys protested.

“Shut your filthy mouth you fucker!” Beron growled and pointed a finger towards the door. “Get out before I ask the Citadel to send us another one of you bastards.” His left hand clutched at his sword.

The comment seemed to sting the older man but he left after Benjen waved him off.

“That wasn't necessary Beron.”

“That bastard put ideas in fathers head and now look where we are,” Beron gave him a scathing glare. “Father dead, Brandon, dead, Lyanna is still with that cunt dragon and now Ned is gone along with Ice. Of course what I said was necessary!” He roared out.

Benjen just put his heads in his hands as Beron continued to rant.

* * *

 

Walys was found dead the next morning, his body broken and bleeding at the foot of the stairs. Most people seemed to think that the old man had just fallen but Benjen suspected more.

“Did you kill him?” He asked Beron when they were alone.

“Did you find any stab wounds on him?”

“No.”

“Then you have your answer,” Benjen remained skeptical and Beron rolled his eyes. “If I wanted him dead that badly, I would have made sure that everyone knew it was me. There is no law against killing a Maester and I'm a little upset that the fucker just died. I'm also a little insulted that you would think so little of me.”

Benjen kept his thoughts to himself but he wondered if Beron was starting to embrace the darker aspects of their family.

* * *

 

“Winterfell is yours,” Benjen murmured, getting down to one knee in front of king Rhaegar, the rest of his household following suit, even Beron. Rhaegar bid them rise after a moment.

“I never had the pleasure of meeting you at Harrenhal Lord Stark,” Rhaegar said quietly to Benjen. “Nor you, Ser Beron.” He added to the other Stark.

“Well hopefully you find Winterfell and the North to your liking, your grace.” Benjen stared at his brother nervously. Beron stared at Rhaegar as if he knew every way to kill him before he dipped his head politely. Movement caught his attention and that of his brother.

“Lyanna,” Benjen breathed out and stopped short of running towards her and what Beron assumed was her child. Instead, he knelt again and this time he was the only one. A sudden chill swept over the area and it had nothing to do with the weather.

Benjen stood awkwardly after a moment and addressed his sister.

“Your grace,” He murmured.

“Please Ben, I get enough of that in Capitol, I don't need it at home.”

“Such hardship you must have faced before coming here,” Lyanna's small smile slipped at Beron's words and she seemed to shrink within herself. The heated glares of the people who helped raise her didn't help much either.

“Beron,” Benjen hissed sharply.

“She is one half of the reason that our family is in near ruin. To speak poorly of the other half is to commit treason.” Beron shrugged as Lyanna started to cry. “Oh save your tears sister, father isn't here to fall for them.”

“Watch how you speak to my wife,” Rhaegar Targaryen stood to full height and glared. “Or I will have your head.”

“As you say, dragon king,” Beron gave a mock bow. “Although I must admit I find myself disappointed. Your father was more creative in his threats as evidenced by all the murders he committed. And how could Lady Lyanna be your wife when she was intended for another and you are already married?”

“You speak without cause,” One of the Kingsguard, the one who replaced Ser Jaime, growled out.

“I have plenty of cause, you come to our home at our expense and you expect us to play nice? I have two words for you, get fucked!” Beron snapped before turning to the rest of the household. “You all have jobs to do, see to them.”

The crowd parted slowly, still glaring at the 'honored' guest.

“You'll see to them Ben?” Beron started walking away. “I have more important things to do than waste my time.”

“I did not give you permission to leave.” Beron stopped and turned back to his brother. “Apologize to our guest and follow us into the hall.”

Since when did his little brother grow balls? Beron raised an eyebrow before turning to the ones he offended so.

To the knight he said, “I'm sorry that you're a cunt.”

To his sister, he said, “I'm sorry that you're a traitor.”

And to the King, he simply bowed his head before turning back to his red faced brother.

“Satisfied?”

* * *

 

These fucking Southerners are insufferable. Beron felt his head ache like never before as he heard them all prattle on save for the royal family which also included the First Wife, her children and her brother who would not shut up.

“To the wolf prince,” Oberyn Martell raised his glass and smiled viciously when the babe in question made a sound. “Long may he live.” He took a drink. The threat was not lost on anyone and Beron finally broke his silence.

“Yes, long may my nephew live, after all who is to say that his siblings may not grow sickly like their mother.” Beron's eyes glinted when the infamous Red Viper snapped his gaze to his. Beron smiled around his cup while he heard his brother groan in despair. The servants chuckled under their breaths.

Lyanna smiled slightly knowing that Beron would at least stand up for his nephew if nothing else. Rhaegar watched the scene intently, waiting to see if he needed to intervene.

“Yes, and maybe Prince Jon will end up like his mother, an acknowledged whore.” Oberyn sneered back but Beron shrugged.

“It would be proof that someone found my nephew whole, healthy and hearty. Valid reasons to find a replacement.” Beron laughed as the Viper threw his cup in his direction but he dodged just in time. “And you southerners say we Northman are without manners.”

“Oberyn, sit down.” Queen Elia scolded her brother who ignored her.

“I may lack my manners but it is us Southerners who do not lack in victories where it counts.”

“For all the good it will do you,” Beron shrugged. “One day some lord or other will have the misfortune of upsetting the sensibilities of another lord or king and we'll do this all over again.” He glared at Oberyn. “Hopefully we'll meet in the field that day.”

“We could always settle this now.”

“I would hate to deprive your family of your presence, much like your king did for my father and brother.”

“At least I wouldn't be stupid enough to let myself get trapped between a true army and one that was fielded out of an old mans britches.”

SMACK!

A wet rag found its way into the princes face, courtesy of a young serving girl. Beron was out of his chair when the Dornishmen made a move towards her. A dagger flashed in his hand and he knew that soon they would be converged on but he wouldn't let this girl be harmed.

“You filthy snake,” The girl, Ana, shook with both anger and grief. “How dare you speak of our losses as if they were nothing! Your Mad King did wrong to us and we had every right to rectify it! Don't you dare spit on the memories of good, noble men, who are worth a thousand of you damn sand dwellers!”

By the end of her rant, angry tears flowed freely down her face but she stared in defiance and her chest heaved. Beron stood directly behind her, close enough to pull her out of the way should anything happen. The haze that clouded his judgment seemed to fade away because the Dornish Prince appeared to calm himself.

“Apologies, my lady. I spoke out of turn.” He held out the rag to her which she snatched it away but her anger seemed to bleed out of her and all that was left was grief. A feeling that was shared by those who understood the loss of not one but three Stark men.

“Go to the kitchens Ana,” Benjen said softly and she complied with a slight hunch to her shoulders. Beron knew that she was desperately trying not to sob. Oberyn Martell turned to Beron and held out his hand.

“I did not mean to make light of your grief or your nephew,” He said that last part bitterly but he seemed sincere.

“I didn't mean to make light of your family and what this means to them.” Beron shook the other mans hand and they separated. They would not be friends, but an agreement was reached silently. Neither of them would insult the others sister or children. At least, not within ones hearing.

King Rhaegar stood.

“I would speak to you Ser Beron and you Lord Benjen. Alone.”

Of for gods sake, what now?

* * *

 

“Excuse me? You want me to what?” Beron stared incredulously at the King.

“I wish for you to travel south with us to help protect your sister and nephew -”

“That bit I understood,” Beron didn't care if he just insulted the king by interrupting him. “I meant the bit after that.”

“Oh, well I wish for you to marry the Lady Cersei of house Lannister. I am even prepared to give you the Dun Fort as well.”

“You want me to marry the daughter of the man who sat out the war like a coward?” Beron was still incredulous but now he was a little angry. He wants me to marry some southern wench and for what?

“She is a great beauty and with the dowry you will receive will be-”

“I don't care about the money no matter how much, I don't understand why I must marry her when I am the fourth son and my brother is older than I. Why not have them marry so the old Lion may have two future Wardens for grandsons?”

Rhaegar sighed, “The thought did cross my mind, but Lord Tywin is upset with me over the execution of Ser Jaime. This arrangement will upset him as well, but I cannot give him more power than he already has. And, with you living in my territory -”

“You can have us watched closely.”

“Indeed, as for you Lord Benjen,” The king turned his head to address the other man. “I wish for you to marry the Lady Ashara Dayne and I would give you money to fix one of the old Northern strongholds for your new keep.”

“What of Winterfell?!” Both Stark brothers spoke at the same time, one angrily, the other with worry.

“Your brothers wife was with child when we took Riverrun, and she recently gave birth to a boy named Tristan.” Both Starks stared at him in shock, why weren't they told this before?! They had assumed that she was dead since they heard that practically everyone was put to the sword if they did not surrender. And Cat, for all her courtly courtesies, was a fierce woman, one that their fierce brother had become quiet taken with.

“Where are they?”

“They will remain South under heavy guard and when she is healthy enough, she and her child will travel to the capitol as hostages.”

“Haven't you already taken enough from her?” Beron demanded. “Her father, her brother, her husband?!”

“It was war,” Rhaegar's cold response made him snarl. “And she won't be alone, her sister will join her along with their uncle. You may get to know your other nephew as well.”

“Why have you not told anyone about an heir to house Stark?”

Rhaegar shrugged, “I do not reward traitors with valuable knowledge unless I must.”

The Northern lords would not like this. This boy would grow up in the South, probably marry in the South as well, diluting the already small First Men blood that existed and the lords might revolt. Or, Beron thought with mounting anger, they would swallow their pride because it was Ned's son and accept a southern minded lord or perish.

Rhaegar had just single handedly won the North for the South, with spilled blood, steel, and now with even more blood. He did what the Andals could never do, and Beron hated him for it.

“It wouldn't do for a Northern heir to not know the customs of his people,” Rhaegar gave Beron a sad look, as if he mourned the thought. “It would be good for him to have a tutor.”

And Beron swallowed his own pride in that moment, knowing that he had no other choice.

* * *

 

She is a beauty, once you get passed the glare and the shitty attitude. Cersei Lannister looked at him with disdain as he wrapped her in a grey cloak. Beron would never worship the Seven but he followed the protocol since everything South of the Neck was dominated by this foreign religion. He did ask to marry in the Godswood, in front of the lone Weirwood in the Red Keep. He was surprised that it was allowed but grateful all the same.

After listening to many congratulatory speeches and well wishes, including a cold and curt one from his good father, it was time for the bedding. Both were stripped naked before either could protest and thrown into a room together with eager listeners on the other side of the door.

Her glare was now joined by a scowl as she eyed him, “Touch me and I will geld you.” She at least had the grace to not look down as she said it.

Beron raised an eyebrow, “Do you think that you are the only one who didn't want this marriage?”

“Then why did you agree?” She sneered at him. Why not marry a Northern bitch or take the Black?”

“I have family here, one that is now yours.”

“Until you stick your filthy cock in me, we are not husband and wife.”

“And who would you rather be your husband? The king? I'm sorry to say but not even the dragons were so depraved as to take three spouses at once.”

“My husband wouldn't have been a dragon, he would have been glorious, and he was brave and talented - “

“He sounds like someone out of a song,” Beron said dismissively, growing tired with this conversation. “And is probably some dead fool now.”

No sooner than he said that, she was on him and they both crashed to the floor. Beron couldn't really focus on the pain in his back because he was trying to protect his face.

“Don't you ever say that again,” Cersei snarled as she sat astride him wriggling about. Beron sat up as quickly as he could and she fell back and her cunt was now in his lap. Both of them groaned loudly when their privates met. Mainly do to the suddenness and the delicious friction.

Someone hooted in glee from outside the door and Beron gritted his teeth as he was about to throw this mad woman away from. But she gripped his arms, panting and staring at him with a strange expression.

Beron panted as well, his cock had hardened and he wasn't going to lie and say that a beautiful woman in his lap was not an unwelcome sight.

But he knew that she wasn't willing to lie with him so he -

He groaned again when she gyrated on of him, he cunt rubbed his cock from base to tip and he stared at her in surprise. She moaned slightly, eyes still on him but now he could feel her getting wet.

“You've done this before,” He panted, hands reaching down to pull her closer to him.

“A-and what if I have,” Her voice broke, but not with stress, with pleasure. She still held a challenging tone in her voice. Beron hastily stood and threw her on the bed and dived between her legs.

A long throaty moan escaped his wife as he licked her from the space between her arsehole all the way to her pearl. She actually had a pleasant taste even if she was a bitch by nature.

“You-you've done thi-is before!” She cried out and he only looked up in response and she sat up on her elbows to stare at him in wonder. Now he recognized that look, it was lust, pure and simple, and he went further down to lick her arsehole and played with her pearl.

She shook as her climax hit and he helped her ride through it and into another one.

“Jaime,” She gasped, head lolling back and eyes rolled up into her head. Beron almost stopped but didn't. Jaime? Her brother? Or a lover with same name? He didn't know but he would find out later...much, much later.

After her third climax, he stood and wiped his mouth as he stared down at her. She shook from everything she went through but nodded at him and then his cock.

“Go on,” She murmured and spread her legs wider. Beron stroked himself and ran the tip of his cock up and down her lips and the wetness there. He slowly pushed inside, groaning at the tightness that was her. She moaned appreciatively and gave him a small, and soft nod of encouragement when he stopped moving, having bottomed out.

“If you don't move I will move out of this room and you will never touch me again,” Her words trailed off into a cry when Beron pulled out and thrust back in before he established a rhythm that worked for them both. Cersei wrapped her legs and arms around him and he lifted her, kissing her hotly before claiming her neck with kisses and gentle nips here and there.

Cersei wasn't sure if she appreciated the the taste of herself but that was driven from her mind as her husband whispered in her ear.

“You can think of any lover you like,” He snarled with lust and picked up an even quicker pace then before. Cersei struggled to keep her mind working, it felt so good and she struggled to listen over her own moans. “But you are my wife, woman. Your name will fall from my lips. Your children will be mine and you belong to me. You hear me. You. Are. Mine!” He roared and punctuated each word with a hard thrust.

“Yours,” She agreed in what was a testament to how good she felt. But the lion in her roared back when she bit into his ear and grunted out, “Mine.”

“Yours,” He grunted back and she felt her cunt muscles convulse as she came once more. Her husband howled his release and she felt his warm seed fill. Both of them panted and the collapsed onto the bed, still connected together and sweating like mad.

Beron suck and licked one of her breasts before he gave her another kiss, this one more tender than the last. He pulled back and stared at her with affection. Maybe this marriage wouldn't be so bad, They both thought but would not say it out loud. The cheering outside of the door brought them back to reality and Beron growled before he pulled out with a groan. She groaned to, in slight disappointment.

“Its like you want to keep me in,” He murmured, referencing the fact that her cunt practically held onto his cock. “Be gone peasants,” He picked up a vase and hurled it at the door where it shattered. “I need to spend time with my lion!” He turned to her with a small smile and eyes filled with lust. She licked her lips in response and gave him a heated look before she rubbed her cunt and patted it invitingly.

“I hope that's not all you possess _husband_.”

"Not even close, _wife_."

* * *

 

Beron looked down at his first child and daughter, Joanna, named for her grandmother then to his son, Brandon. Cersei still rested peacefully after the labor of the twins and Beron was glad. It gave him time to spend with his children though Brandon was nursing at the moment.

“I'll protect you,” He crooned to his sleeping child. “You, your mother, your brother, your cousins, your uncle and aunt.” That last one was said with mild hesitation. For all that she had done, she was still his sister but it would be a long time before he forgave her. “I'll protect you all. From Dragons and anyone that tries to hurt us, even the Gods themselves. This I swear.”

His daughter opened her tiny green eyes and yawned before closing them again. Beron smiled happily.

“This I swear.”


End file.
